Sins of the Doctor
by MissHaunted-MoonLight
Summary: Written for '7 Deadly Sins' on LJ. Latest story: 'Kiss of Gratitude'. He sees her kiss Riley, a complete stranger, thanking him in her own little way for being there when things looked hopeless… and he can’t help but wish it’s him she’s thanking. Post'42'
1. Voracious : Greed

**Voracious  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title: **Voracious**  
****Fandom:** Doctor Who**  
****Pairing: **The Doctor/Martha Jones  
**Prompt: **# 01 - Greed**  
****Word Count:** 1'320**  
****Rating:** PG-13**  
****Summary:** "So is that all we are, then?" she whispered, staring up at him sadly, eyes brimming with tears that she simply refused to let fall. "A distraction?" 10Martha.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** No 1 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. I've decided to combine all 7 stories into one, to cut down on the number of one-shots in my profile - Heh, what can I say? I prefer to have multiple-chaptered stories. They just look better. (Grins) This one's very 10Martha. Don't like? Don't read. Simple as, really. Set mid-series 3, no spoilers.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

His desires were insatiable, clawing away relentlessly at his soul as he struggled against his inhibitions.

It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. He'd _had_ his chance already, had it and lost it. In fact, he'd had _more_ than enough chances. So many companions, so many hidden loves and buried secrets. And each and every one had killed him that little bit more.

And yet still, here stood his latest companion, her dark eyes wide and staring, glinting with anxiety and the faintest trace of mute hope as she shrugged silently out of her cardigan, hanging it over an arm rest and watching him apprehensively.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't right and he _knew_ it.

So why were his legs carrying him forwards without his say-so?

Why did he put himself through it?

Greed. The only word for it. He couldn't quench the aching need, the incurable desire for company, for somebody to share the Universe with. It was a long-since accepted fact, now; he _needed_ people with him, laughing, crying, joking, running, screaming, shouting, venting …

And there was nothing he could do, no power in the Universe strong enough to quell his boundless craving for company.

"Martha …"

But he fell silent, clearing his throat as the croaky huskiness of that one simple word echoed ominously around the Console Room.

She shook her head once, a hungry smile slowly spreading across her face despite her attempts to contain it, as she watched in silence, heart racing beneath her ribs as he approached her, step after painfully slow step.

But then he stopped, biting down hard on his lip and forcing himself to tear his gaze away from her.

"I can't," he less than whispered, shaking his head in desperation. "Please, I can't. It's not fair. Not fair on you, not fair on _them_!"

"Doctor … they'd _want_ you to move on," was all she said, tones quiet and eyes betraying her anxiety as she fought to keep her expression passive. '_Am I pushing too hard?_' she thought, fingers fiddling with a stray thread of cotton hanging from her top.

She knew his reservations, knew them all too well.

He was afraid.

Afraid that if he opened up to her, she'd vanish, just like the rest of them had.

So many companions, so much heart-break.

And he was afraid that _her_ mark on his hearts would soon tear them in the same way that the rest had.

Then there was the guilt, the feeling that he was betraying the memory of all those he'd lost already. If only she could make him see that it wasn't betrayal at all. Not _one_ of his companions would _ever_ have wanted him to be alone.

And only _he_ seemed to be too blind to see that.

Dropping her gaze, she sighed heavily and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm here, Doctor," she said softly, rising to her feet, respecting his wishes because she understood them, but hating herself for giving in so easily. "I'm here if you need me."

And she turned to leave.

Only to be stopped a moment later when his hand enclosed around her wrist, turning her back to face him, the tumult of emotions burning within his auburn orbs so _intense_ that she found herself drowning in his gaze.

"I shouldn't," he whispered, voice hoarse and a trembling hand lifting a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it delicately behind her ear. "I shouldn't but I can't help it."

Martha remained silent, quite sure he'd robbed her of her voice.

"I shouldn't want it. I shouldn't need it. But I do. Every time one person leaves, I _need_ someone else, because if I'm on my own, I think. And it _hurts_ to think, Martha, it _really_ hurts!"

"So is that all we are, then?" she whispered, staring up at him sadly, eyes brimming with tears that she simply refused to let fall. "A distraction? A way for you to ignore the pain?"

He hesitated, then shook his head.

"No," he replied, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek. "Not _one_ of you has _ever_ just been a distraction. And it's _because_ of that that I just can't do it. I can't betray them. And I can't hurt you by giving in only to have to watch it all crumble away around us. You're going to leave, and I'm going to be alone again. And if I give in, it's going to hurt us both."

"I don't care," she murmured, shaking her head and letting the tears fall. "I don't care how much it's _going_ to hurt, Doctor, 'cause it hurts already! It hurts that you can't forget the others enough to let me in. It hurts to think that you let _them _in but only _now_ decide to discipline yourself. It hurts that you can't trust me enough to let me help."

He shook his head vehemently, mutely _begging_ for her to understand.

"I _do_ trust you!" he told her firmly, hands squeezing her shoulders in comfort. "And I'm doing this _now_ because I've seen it all burn too many times. I don't want to put you through that. I'm not worth it!"

Martha's eyes widened in shock and she choked back a sob.

"How can you say that?" she demanded, tones hushed in disbelief. "How can you say you're not worth it? You're worth _every minute_ of it!"

Shaking his head, he pulled away and ran a hand over his eyes, trying to blot out her words but failing miserably as they echoed annoyingly around his head.

"Don't," he whispered.

She ignored him.

"So many people would die for you, Doctor. Me included. Because we all know the same thing. We all know how much the Universe needs you! So how you can stand there and say you're not worth it I just don't know."

"Martha, _please_ -"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help how I feel. I _get_ that you can't return it. _Really_ I do, but I can't help but wonder what use I am to you, if _not_ as little more than a distraction."

Hands trembling as he ran them across his face before dragging them through his hair, he was struggling so damn hard to ignore the roaring emotions welling within his chest.

But he couldn't.

Broken, confused and guilt-ridden, he turned on the spot, took one look at her, drinking in her pained expression and the not-so-subtle hint of regretted desperation behind the hazy film of tears.

Greed and guilt battled it out against one another inside him.

And greed won the fight.

Pulling her in without another thought, he kissed her, unable to find the words that he so dearly needed to say and instead trying to portray his feelings in a way that she could _hopefully_ understand. Pouring as much as he possibly could into one simple act of total spontaneity, his first move was hesitant but heart-felt.

But it didn't stay that way for long.

And for a few moments, it didn't matter that he was going to lose her eventually, that she was going to leave and he was going to need somebody else, need another companion to share the Universe with. It didn't matter that he'd gone ahead and done the very thing he'd sworn to himself he'd never do again; gone ahead and fallen for another companion, another _friend_. It didn't matter that taking things one step further was going to change them both, change what they'd had, nor that he couldn't be sure yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

All that mattered was that, as she returned it, her hands looping and linking around his neck in a vain attempt to ascertain that he really _was_ there, the aching need in his hearts was momentarily silenced.

Too bad the desires, the feelings, the _greed_ couldn't be silenced as easily.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Dudes, I'm **_**insane**_**! But what can one do with oneself when prompts in different communities just look so … **_**delicious**_**?! I just couldn't resist dusting off the proverbial quill for the Sins & Virtues challenges. Temptation is a **_**very **_**bad thing.  
(Sighs)**

**AnyWho, thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	2. Performer : Gluttony

**Performer****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Performer  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who  
**Pairing:** The Doctor/Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 02 - Gluttony  
**Word Count:** 730  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** She thinks I never notice her, but she couldn't be more wrong. I notice _everything._ And she doesn't even know. 10Martha.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** No 2 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. Minor spoilers for 'Family of Blood'.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It's rather surprising, even to _me_, just how good an actor I am. After all, 'acting' was never exactly my forté. Nor was it a career generally advertised broadly at the Academy. Who wanted to act when we could strive to enter the Senate and take our place beside our associates at the heart of the Universe? Strive to join the forces of Ultimate 'Good' that were the observant Time Lords?

No, acting wasn't really our 'thing', as it were.

And yet it's the 'actor' within me that's the _one_ persona of myself which is practically faultless.

Because I do it so very well.

She thinks I never notice her. She said so herself; said it to 'John Smith', admittedly, but she still said it, all the same.

She couldn't be more wrong.

In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion I actually notice her a _lot_ more than I probably _should._

Because I just can't _help_ but notice her.

The way she holds herself, so confident and up for anything, the way the light catches her dark locks, bouncing around her like an aura as her head flicks contemplatively to one side, the way her lips quirk upwards when she's thinking, or when she's itching to laugh but is not exactly sure the situation warrants it, the way she tries her damndest to put everybody else's needs and desires before her own, the way she watches the worlds flash by in a daze, craving each new adventure, each new planet to quench her thirst for knowledge and excitement…

No, I simply can't help myself. One glance in her general direction, no matter where we are or what time we're in or who's around, and that's all it takes. With just _one look_, I'm drowning. And before long, I have to admit to myself that I'm gorging. Plain and simple. I have to admit to myself that I simply _can not_ turn away from her, whether I want to or not.

Meeting her gaze is the hardest part about it. Even if it's only for a _second_, I find myself lost to their timeless, swirling depths, hazel eyes locked with chocolate as I stare into her very soul, drinking in everything about her and memorising it in abject desperation, terrified that as soon as I turn away, she's going to vanish from existence.

She thinks I never notice her, but she couldn't be more wrong.

I notice _everything._

And she doesn't even know.

That's how good a performer I am. I can feast on her beauty, feast on _her_ without her _ever_ so much as suspecting that I'm doing such a thing.

She thinks I never notice her, and I can't tell her how much it hurts that she thinks that, because then she'd know the truth – she'd know that I'm addicted. I_ can't_ let her know that, can't let her realise I'm captivated by her, or I'll never be able to 'kick the habit', so to speak.

But the funny thing is, I'm not entirely sure I really _want_ to kick the habit in the first place.

I _like_ watching her. I _like_ noticing every tiny detail - no matter how small or insignificant, because each and every one of those tiny little things makes her 'Martha Jones', makes her the young woman standing at my side through thick and thin – and I _like _the fact that she doesn't realise I know more about her than she knows about herself.

Is that selfish of me? Is it selfish that I want to continue pretending I don't see her just so I can go on feasting without her say-so?

Not that I care, of course.

And not that it really matters, either, because it's not about to change any time soon. Not if _I_ have anything to do with it, at least. Maybe one day she'll finally understand. Maybe one day she'll finally know the truth. Maybe one day she'll finally know that I _do _notice her, even if it means confessing that I notice her _way_ more than I probably should.

But until then, let's hope that my 'acting' skills remain as up-to-scratch as they have been in the past. Because if they _don't_ … well, I think I'd be in big trouble. Not least of all because the performer within me would most definitely be out of a job.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Randomness is a bizarre but inspiring thing. (Shrugs) **

**Thanksies for reading. Comments are more than welcome!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	3. Too Late : Wrath

**Too Late  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Too Late  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who  
**Pairing:** The Doctor/Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 03 - Wrath  
**Word Count:** 2'330  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** His apology came too late. Her patience was all but spent. The Powers That Be felt she deserved a chance to show him that ignorance must never go unpunished. _Very_ AU. We're talking 'hints of an evil Martha' AU, too …  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** No 3 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. Set after 'Family of Blood'. Rating for language … This is a bit different to how I normally write, so let's just see where the wind takes me … fingers crossed it isn't too much of a disaster ...

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"_I'm sorry, Martha," he murmured finally, watching her almost warily as she stood with her back to him, staring mutely out over the wide expanse of open water ahead of her._

_She held her tongue, expression completely devoid of emotion as she curled her toes into the cold, wet sand and wrapped two shivering arms around her chest in a vain attempt to procure warmth._

_His apology meant nothing._

_They were words, that was all. Empty words._

_And the only words that seemed to mean anything at all to her were the ones that had caused her entire being to become totally and utterly numb._

"This is … well, it translates as Bad Wolf Bay … and it's the last place I ever saw her."

_No. She didn't want to know, he knew that much, but it was too late to take the words back. He'd already said them. And she couldn't simply pretend he hadn't because the words were echoing around her head with a vengeance, leaving her too unfeeling to try and stop them, too unfeeling to do _anything

"_I'm sorry," he repeated, a greater sense of urgency leaking into his voice this time. He stared at her sadly, noting the tremors that were overcoming her stubborn stance, and took an anxious step closer, silently willing for her to understand his motives. "I just … you wanted to know what I was thinking about, and I couldn't say it. I couldn't find words enough to describe it. So I thought … maybe_showing_ you instead … well, you might have understood better."_

_Martha shrugged apathetically, eyes still resolutely focussed upon the lapping waves before her._

"_You ignored me for so long," she whispered finally, words almost carried away on the wind, "that I thought I'd done something wrong. I thought I'd broken your trust, broken our friendship, when I asked it of you before. But all that time … _all that time_ you were avoiding me, you were just thinking about _her_!"_

_The Doctor shook his head so hard his neck cracked. Rubbing it absently, he reached out a hand to her, but then decided against it and let it fall to his side again._

"_Martha, you _know_ that's not true," he said sharply, astounded that she was taking the situation so personally. He'd brought her here hoping she'd understand, hoping to _show_ her why he wasn't quite himself these days, and yet all it had done was apparently clarify in her mind that he thought more highly of her predecessor than he did of her._

"Isn't_ it?"_

_She rounded on him at last, her eyes glistening with tears that she simply refused to let fall. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wouldn't be weak. She _couldn't_. Curling her hands into fists, she brushed angrily at her fringe and couldn't bite back a dark little laugh as she spotted the hurt in his eyes. "You ignore me for a week, barricading yourself in your room and completely neglecting not just me, but the TARDIS, too. You don't show your face again, not once – I don't see you for a_ week_, damnit, - and when you finally _do_ resurface, the first place you run to is the one place that connects you and Rose Tyler! So explain it to me, Doctor, _please_, because I'm trying _so_ hard to understand, here."_

_He could sense her anger growing by the second, see it inching ever closer to its boundaries, prepared to fall full-pelt over that metaphorical waterfall. But he couldn't deny that she had reasons to feel neglected, reasons to feel incredibly pissed off with him. But what she didn't understand was that he'd been _so_confused, his thoughts so mixed up ever since she'd asked about Rose a week prior. And it worried him … no, it _terrified_ him that every time he saw her after their discussion about Rose Tyler, every time he looked at her, he was seeing somebody else._

_Yes, he'd been avoiding her, but only to avoid seeing Rose again. He couldn't understand it himself, how Martha was slowly but surely worming her way into his hearts, into a place that he thought had died when Rose 'died'. Yet she was accomplishing the impossible … or at least she had been until she'd taken this visit the wrong way. Rose and Martha … it was all so confusing! Feelings he'd thought belonged to Rose and Rose alone were suddenly sprouting for Martha … and it was terrifying, just how similar those feelings actually were. Seeing Rose in her had helped him to make sense of it all– he felt more comfortable associating such feelings with Rose, which was probably why every time he saw Martha, he saw that little bit of Rose, at the same time …_

_Even in his own head the excuse was ridiculously lame. It was so hard to make sense of that he thought it pointless to try and argue his point to Martha. She wouldn't have listened, anyway._

_He'd thought she'd understand why he found it so hard to talk about Rose if she could experience the kinds of feelings associated with her, and what better place to show Martha that than the last place they'd been together? In a way, he'd also hoped that seeing Bad Wolf Bay again might have helped him to move on properly, so he could focus more on the companion of the present, rather than the companions of the past … but no. Martha hadn't seen those motives._

_And now, it seemed, blind jealousy was clouding her judgement. Blind jealousy … that bitch was going to ruin everything for him, and there was nothing he could do about it._

_Shaking his head and dropping his gaze to inspect the infinitesimal specks of sand beneath his feet, he sighed heavily and tried to ignore the penetrating glare that was burning a hole into his skull._

_But that was the wrong move to make, and again, he'd gone and realised it too late._

"_You're doin' it again …" she whispered darkly, eyes narrowed slits now. "You're ignoring me again."_

_Blinking quickly, he glanced up and shook his head._

"_No, no I'm not, I just can't answer your question. I don't know what to say. I've tried to explain why I brought you here but you don't want to listen."_

"_So it's _my_ fault, now," she stated bluntly, folding her arms across her chest, a dark scowl on her face that the Doctor never wanted to see there again. It was so cold, so cruel, so … inhuman …_

_And so were the glowing ruby-red eyes._

"_I'm sorry, Doctor," she said at last, voice eerily calm now as she stared him down, the intensity of her blood-red irises leaving scarlet imprints on his vision. "I'm sorry it's come to this. But it's your own fault, and I think you understand that."_

_Bewildered, he took an anxious step backwards as she raised her arms into the air, palms outstretched and expression one of composed determination._

"_What is it?" he asked when he finally found his voice, eyes wide and hearts racing as he stared at her in complete confusion. Why had everything spiralled so far out of control in such a short space of time? Why were they even having this argument ?! … And what the Hell was she doing ?!_

_Suddenly he wished he'd never asked._

_He'd always believed in the impossible – had revelled in it, had loved conquering it and had relished the feelings of achievement and accomplishment that accompanied proving people wrong._

_But at that moment, he'd never been more of a believer in his entire life. In _any_ of them, in fact._

_Clouds above his head were gathering, swirling angrily as blacks and greys mingled with the white fluffy ones that had been there before, consuming the calmness and devouring the softness, leaving nothing but a blanket of darkness to fall over the entire bay. The waters beside them were churning with renewed vigour, waves rearing high up before powerfully crashing back down onto the sand. That itself was blowing about around them, a typhoon, almost, careering around the Doctor and Martha cyclone-style even as he watched._

_But the look in her eyes soon grabbed his attention again. Never mind the unnatural weather patterns – it was the darkness that appeared to have fallen over her soul that was worrying him the most._

_And that worry turned to downright fear as she finally dropped her arms, scarlet gaze boring unblinkingly into his. Her expression vacant and unforgiving, she smiled an eerie, unnatural smile, then flicked her wrists almost absent-mindedly in his direction, one eyebrow raising expectantly._

"_Mother Nature agrees, Doctor," she called out over the din of the rising winds and the roaring sea and the pounding rain, - her voice almost robotic - as the subtle movement of her hands sent sand, rain and half of what had been a previously calm ocean flying straight for him. Turning to her, staring helplessly at her as she smiled that unsympathetic,' un-Martha'ish smile, she was the last thing he saw, and hers were the last words he heard, before the roar and power of the onslaught overwhelmed him._

"_Mother Nature agrees that ignorance must never go unpunished."_

------------------------

For a few frantic seconds as he bolted upright, the Doctor could almost feel the icy spray freezing his skin as the waves completely swallowed him. He felt the sand tearing into exposed flesh and tasted the saltiness of the rain upon his tongue. After a few moments, common sense took over and everything was calm, once again.

But the darkness in her eyes, the shadow upon her face … they were a different matter entirely. They'd been burned into his vision, a look so _…_so_wrong_, so out of place on her usually interested, excited features that he knew it would be imprinted in his mind for the rest of his life.

Panting a little, he ran a hand anxiously over his face and swung his legs around, jumping shakily from the Captain's chair and landing unsteadily, having to lean against the Console to keep himself upright.

That … dream ?! Was it a dream? Whatever it was, he'd never been so afraid in his life. Running a hand through his hair in distress, he shook his head like a dog would to rid its ears of water and straightened up, heart-rates slowly but surely returning to normal.

"A dream," he murmured to himself, hardly daring to believe it, the phrase tentatively leaving his lips as though afraid even whispering the words would somehow make it become reality. "Of _course_ it was. Martha doesn't have supernatural powers, and you promised yourself you'd never set foot on that beach again as long as you lived."

Reasoning.

He loved it. His ability to reason with himself had saved him a great deal of heart-ache in the past, and here it was again, convincing him that he wasn't losing his marbles.

Gradually regaining his composure, he shrugged away the last of his worries just in time to hear steady footsteps growing louder and louder as Martha approached from beyond the TARDIS' internal door.

Plastering a convincing look of total serenity onto his face, he smiled warmly, shook his head one last time and tried to remind himself that Martha Jones did _not_ have red eyes and could not manipulate the elements.

Nevertheless, a flash of the 'dream-Martha' seemed to leak into his mind as she finally stepped over the threshold and strode anxiously towards him, expression one of mild concern and curiosity.

Wearing the same outfit he'd seen her wearing at Bad Wolf Bay … hair pulled back into a tight, neat pony-tail, a worn-looking pair of faded jeans clinging to her curved hips so perfectly that they appeared to have moulded to her skin, an ebony-coloured shirt buttoned to a point where the tiniest amount was made visible at the bust …

His breath caught in his throat, and a cold chill danced playfully down his spine as she perched herself precariously on the edge of the Captain's chair, her dark eyes wide and curious as she stared at him expectantly, a frown just skimming across her lips, as though she was daring herself to say something but was worried about how he would take it.

"Doctor," she started, avoiding his gaze. She paused, and his hearts appeared to have worked themselves into a nervous frenzy. Trying to pretend that they weren't beating a thousand beats a second beneath his rib cage, he waited for her to continue, leaning against the railing and staring at her intently, silently willing her to not say what he thought was about to come. " … I was just wondering if … if I could ask you something."

'_Don't say it, don't say it don't say it!_' he thought anxiously, unconsciously biting his lip and turning away, eyes jammed tight shut as he clenched his fists in his pockets.

She paused, the words on the tip of her tongue but her mind trying to keep them from escaping. After a few furious seconds of internal battling, she shrugged to herself. '_Ahh, what the Hell_,' she thought, her curiosity winning out over her anxiety about the consequences she could probably expect from this. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned to stare at the column as it rose and fell, humming melodically in the background.

"I was wondering if you'd tell me about … Rose Tyler …"

The Doctor turned to her, arms hanging limply by his sides and a flash of those gleaming, evil red-eyes momentarily consuming his vision. He noticed her sitting there, avoiding his gaze, her question obviously innocent enough in her mind ...

And only one thought came to mind as the words reverberated around his head, again and again and again:

'_Oh, dear. You said it.'_

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Ahh, so what next? Are they doomed to repeat the events he foresaw, or will they change the future, I wonder?  
I'm afraid **_**that**_**, my friends, is entirely up to you! (Grins) I'm givin' you free reign, so to speak. Make of this what you will - whether you want a happy ending or a sad ending!**

**Thanksies for reading. Feel free to comment! And just so we're clear, this was a one-shot, but I'm leaving the ending entirely in your hands, m'dears! **

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	4. Not Like You : Sloth

**Not Like You  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Not Like You**  
Fandom:** Doctor Who**  
Pairing:** The Doctor/Martha Jones**  
Prompt: **# 04 - Sloth**  
Word Count: **1'365**  
Rating:** G**  
Summary:** After so many years of fighting, his energy is completely exhausted. Her manic hero isn't so 'manic' anymore.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.**  
Author's Notes: **No 4 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. Non-Italics are Martha's thoughts, and Italics are the Doctor's.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It's worrying. I've never seen him like this before. And my lack of knowledge is making the situation seem so much more impossible to handle.

I think anybody who's ever met the Doctor will agree that he _hates_ stopping, absolutely _despises_ doing nothing. He's always got to be up and about, rushing around like a man possessed from one planet to the next, saving worlds and ending wars and curing diseases. Never stopping, never so much as pausing for breath. For _him_, there is no 'seventh day of rest' as God himself intended; there are always going to be people and planets in need of a saviour, and – being the martyr that he is – it is more often than not going to be down to him to save them.

I think that's what attracted me to him in the first place – his open willingness to help _everyone_. And not just the people he likes, either. He even goes out of his way to try and make the bad guys gain as much of a good deal as they can under the circumstances. Granted, they only get '_one chance_', and then whatever happens happens without him so much as batting an eyelash, but even so … they get one more chance out of _him_ than _I_ would have given them.

But putting aside my reasons for loving him for the moment, it's customary to feel absolutely knackered after spending a day around him. More often than not, I'm having to beg him to let me have a break, because he's just so used to doing something _every_ second of the day. I think his motto has got to be something like 'a second doing nothing is a second wasted', or something. And he doesn't half live by that!

I guess … what I'm trying to say – really badly, admittedly – is that … seeing him doing _nothing_ is just … it's not 'Doctor'. And that's what's scaring me, more than anything. See? I'm so flustered by his unusual behaviour that I'm having trouble forming a coherent sentence …

Instead, I'm standing here, in the middle of the Console Room, watching as he … sits. He's just sitting there, staring at the central column as though entranced by it. The TARDIS hums and clinks around me, distracting me from the complete silence that would be reigning supreme around us without her.

I tried asking earlier – asked him if we were going to be going anywhere exciting today, if he had anything else adventurous and extremely dangerous up his sleeves.

He said 'no'.

And that was it.

No reasons, no explanations, no mindless chit-chat … just … _nothing_.

So I'm sure you can see why I'm ever so slightly concerned for him.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_I couldn't even _begin_ to tell you how tired I am._

_I never thought I'd see the day when I couldn't handle saving the Universe anymore. But it seems that day is upon me at last._

_The problem is … I stopped. I stopped doing things, stopped running, stopped fighting. And now that I've stopped, I don't think I can face trying to start all over again. I always knew, deep down, that this was going to happen – that I was going to run out of steam and lose grip on my urgency to help others. I guess I always knew that there would come a time when I would finally have to stop running. I suppose I've simply been putting off the inevitable._

_I now that it's _happened_ … well, I wasn't prepared for it, and now I can do nothing about it._

_I see Martha, out of the corner of my eye, standing with her arms folded, just … _staring_ at me._

_She's worried, but she has no need to be._

_I'm not._

_I always knew this would happen._

_And now it has._

_Oh well._

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

This is getting quite irritating, I must confess.

Before, it was downright scary, but _now_?_Now_ it's gone so far beyond scary that he is annoying me, more than anything.

But … that isn't fair, is it? It's not _his_ fault he's tired …

Because that's the problem. Oh, I know _all too well_ what the problem is, alright.

And maybe the most annoying thing is my inability to help him. But because I can't blame myself, I want to blame _him_ for giving up, even though that's the _last_ thing I should be doing. As horrible as it seems, it's easier for me to be annoyed with _him_ than it is for me to admit that there is nothing I can do to pull him back …

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_Tired._

_So,_ so_ tired._

_Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of _living.

_Nine regenerations, ten versions of myself, nine-hundred years of endless torment …_

_It's all just … just _too much! _I can't take it anymore!_

_Why will the Universe not leave me alone ?! All I desire is a moment to myself, is that _really_ too much to ask?_

… …

_Judging by the look on young Martha Jones' face, I'd wager a bet on 'yes'._

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Goodness … _he blinked_!

Dare I hope that he's snapped out of it, then?

Whether I think I'm hoping or not, my heart-rate's quickened considerably. Taking a tiny step towards him, a let a hopeful smile spread across my face as I watch him blink again, his left hand twitching ever so slightly in his lap, my anger and frustration no longer traceable as it is overwhelmed by sheer relief.

"Doctor?" I whisper, unable to disguise the anxiety as well as I'd hoped to.

As he turns to me, at last, hazel gaze focussed upon my face for what feels like the first time in a lifetime, I can't contain a sigh of pure joy, nor can I quench the urge to run at him and grab him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, Doctor, thank _God_! I _knew_ you wouldn't leave me, I just _knew_ it!"

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_I'm not entirely sure if I regret snapping out of it, now that she's crushing my chest. I can't hide from the fact that I'm no less exhausted _now_ than I was when I thought I was at the end …_

_The end of it all …_

_Where has this strength come from? I thought I'd exhausted _everything_! It _felt_ like I had, at any rate._

_It must be down to Martha. Just like it was down to every other companion, at some point in the past._

They_ are the only constants in my life. If it weren't for _them_, I would have given in _centuries_ ago._

_And yet here I am once again, saved by yet another wonderful, beautiful friend, and she – just like all the others – has no idea just how much she has helped me._

"I _knew_ you wouldn't leave me, I just _knew_ it!"

_No, Martha. I wouldn't leave you. I _couldn't.

_I can't deny that I'm still tired, still fed up with fighting for the right thing when the wrong thing happens anyway._

_But because she's here, I can't give up, not yet. It would break her heart._

_So I'll just have to wait until she goes – because she _will_. Oh, _I know_ she'll go in the end. Everybody does._

_I don't know if I'll survive that, again, but at least _then_ I'll be able to give in – be able to give myself that long awaited 'moment to myself', when the Universe doesn't need saving and my hearts can weep in peace._

… …

_But is that _really_ likely to happen? I'll find somebody else, won't I?_

_On and on it will go …_

_Endless, timeless. Never stopping, never resting._

_A part of me wants to hope that I can finally rest when Martha leaves me, rest for the first time in years, but a larger part fears I won't be able to pull myself back if there isn't somebody else there to catch me …_

_And giving up is not who I am. Doing nothing is not in my nature._

_I'll leave that to the sloths of the Universe – they do it so remarkably well._

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Hugs to all you readers out there!**

**And Happy New Year!  
Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	5. Kiss of Gratitude : Envy

**Kiss of Gratitude****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title: **Kiss of Gratitude**  
Fandom: **Doctor Who**  
Pairing:** The Doctor/Martha Jones**  
Prompt: **# 05 - Envy**  
Word Count:** 760**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Summary: **He sees her kiss Riley, a complete stranger, thanking him in her own little way for being there when things looked hopeless… and he can't help but wish it's him she's thanking.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.**  
Author's Notes: **No 5 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. Spoilers for '_Smith and Jones_' and '_42_'. This one ain't much – It's more of an introspective drabble, than anything else…

Oh, and on a totally unrelated note …

_**Happy New Year! May 2008 be prosperous and wonderful for each and every one of you! **_

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It's all over.

At the cost of nye on an entire crew, the Sun's rage is quelled and the S.S. Pentallian is stationary a safe distance away, no longer hurtling towards burning oblivion. And there are but two crew members left to make sure she remains that way.

Inclining his head to Scannell and Riley, he strokes the TARDIS affectionately for a moment, before vanishing inside without so much as a backward glance. Martha stays behind for a few moments, just as he'd known she would.

But he doesn't need to watch them to know why she'd want to.

His smile slips away as he stops beside the Console, hands in his pockets as he gazes up at the Rotor without seeing it. The TARDIS hums and creaks around him, but he pays her no attention, distracted as he is by his keen senses.

They're talking, he can tell without listening.

He can't make out specific words, but the feeling he gets from the whispers he can unintentionally hear suggest a sense of… a sense of _belief_. They _believe_ in each other…

Yes, Martha is surprised by that. He senses her delight at Riley's belief in her, senses her pride for the crewman who she almost lost her life alongside as he finally admits to finding someone he can place his faith in…

As Martha thanks Riley before the two of them are forced to part forever, as he sees them in his mind's eye smiling, and laughing, and _kissing_, he has to wonder just why he can't feel pity for them. Why he doesn't feel bad about separating them.

He_ tells_ himself it's because Riley's late crew members were responsible for the days' unfortunate events - that they brought the near-disaster upon themselves, and that because Riley worked for them, _he_ would have to share that guilt.

But that isn't the _real_ reason.

No, in reality, he envies the connection Martha and Riley have somehow discovered in the space of 42 minutes. _42 minutes_!

A connection strong enough to warrant a parting kiss, it seems.

He understands.

That kiss is a kiss of gratitude. They almost died together in that escape pod, and emotions would have been high. He gets the feeling that Riley's hopelessness had only been overcome by Martha's refusal to give up hope. She must have helped him see reason. It was _inevitable_ that they'd find _some_ sort of connection during such a traumatic event.

And yet he can't help but envy Riley's power over her.

He wishes, as they part with a grin, Martha beaming at Riley as she stumbles backwards into the TARDIS, that it is _him_ she is thanking for saving her life, that it is _him_ she has saved a kiss of gratitude for…

But_ that_ is absurd… isn't it?

He doesn't want to feel like that, not again. Not after the last time.

Martha's talking to him, but he doesn't hear a word of it. Instead, he continues to stare resolutely at the Rotor, thoughts racing and emotions barely just beneath that level of unnatural control.

She kissed him…

She kissed Riley, a complete stranger…

Just like he kissed her back when they first met… _He_ was a total stranger then, too. Up on the moon, running from space-police and hunting down a blood-thirsty cousin of the vampires… she kissed a stranger…

And he can't deny that he loved it, even if the thrill only lasted seconds.

No, it isn't fair of him to think like this. Riley was her friend, _his_ friend. He helped them save the ship, helped them save the Sun, helped the Doctor keep Martha safe and sane when luck wasn't on their side. No, he shouldn't _envy_ Riley, he should be _thanking_ him!

All Martha gave him was a kiss, because that is her way of saying thank you.

Now, it's _his_ turn to say thank you to _her_.

Finally acknowledging her, forcing himself back into the moment and ridding his mind of thoughts he didn't want to think about, he passes her the TARDIS key. Unbeknownst to Martha, he's giving her a little part of his heart at the same time.

And though he won't voice such thoughts aloud, he silently hopes that he need not envy Riley for taking Martha's heart before he could share one of his own with her… And then turns to wondering if there would be coming an opportunity, sometime soon, when she might display her thanks upon _him_ in the way that only Martha can thank somebody.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Hmm, not sure what to think about this one. I just watched the episode again and was momentarily bitten by a plot bunny.**

**I'll feel a lot better if people have read it, though, so thanks to you if you have!  
Feedback is love!**

**Blessed Be!  
Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


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